


As long as I am with you

by rsadelle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3358010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gun! Everyone down!" Brandon shoves Alex down to the ground behind him as he yells it, and then there's the sound of the shot and a line of fire streaking across his shoulder as he throws himself down to cover Alex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As long as I am with you

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Note:** Non-graphic gun violence.
> 
> Everything I know about both bodyguards and gunshot wounds I learned from Hollywood and their portrayal in this story should not be taken to reflect actual reality. Title from "Rather Be" by Clean Bandit featuring Jess Glynne.

"Gun! Everyone down!" Brandon shoves Alex down to the ground behind him as he yells it, and then there's the sound of the shot and a line of fire streaking across his shoulder as he throws himself down to cover Alex.

The adrenaline keeps him going, lets him forget about how much he hurts and focus on what needs to be done right now. Protect Alex. Get them out of here.

"I've got Mama Bird and Princess," Maripier says over the comms. "We're heading out."

"Working on Senior," Carey says. "He wants to get to Junior."

Brandon looks around to assess the situation. Gunman's not there anymore. Or not visible if he is. P.K.'s pushing through the panicking crowd toward where the shot came from. Maripier is hustling Anna and Inna toward the door. Carey is keeping Alex Sr. from heading into the crowd, trying to get him to go with the women.

"You okay?" Brandon asks Alex, sharp.

"I think so," Alex says.

Brandon lifts his cuff to his mouth. "I've got Junior. He's unharmed."

Maripier jerks her head around to look at him.

"Get them out of here," Brandon says into his comm. Doesn't say he's shot, probably bleeding all over Alex's very nice suit. Doesn't need to panic anyone. Doesn't need to panic Alex.

"No sign of the shooter," P.K. says. "Weaver's on scene containment. Prusty, get yourself and Junior out of here. I'm sending Gally to you."

"Roger that."

Brandon squeezes Alex's arm. "We're going to get out of here now. I need you to stand up and walk toward the doors calmly."

"Okay," Alex says.

Brandon stands without relying on his arms, and looks around, still on high alert, while Alex gets up.

"You're bleeding," Alex says, voice tight and scared in a way Brandon hasn't ever heard it, and he's heard it in so many situations in the months Price & Subban has been working for the Galchenyuks.

"I know," Brandon says. "Walk. That way."

"But-"

"Go," Brandon says, with a push to Alex's back. "I'm right behind you."

Gally meets them just as they reach the doors to the back hallway. He pushes through the door, gun drawn, and checks to make sure it's clear before he waves them through.

"I've got them," Gally says into his wrist comm as they rush down the hallway.

They're close enough behind the rest of them that they catch up at the building doors.

Anna gasps when she sees them, with Inna and Alex Sr. looking concerned. "You're bleeding!" Anna says to Alex.

"It's not mine," Alex says.

Anna throws her arms around him, clearly not caring about the blood getting on her dress.

Maripier swears in French. "How bad is it?" she asks Brandon, clipped and tense.

Over the comms, P.K. snaps, "Travis, Manny, ETA."

"Sixty seconds to pickup," Travis says, sounding mostly calm. Easy for him. He's been in the garage with the cars. Two-car protocol for the family, their team's van parked with them.

"I'm still alive," Brandon says to Maripier, with the best grin he can manage, "so not too bad. I'll go in the second car."

Maripier swears at him again, harsher this time. "You're not going anywhere in anything other than an ambulance."

They can hear the sirens now, which means it won't be long before that's an option.

Brandon throws her a sloppy salute, the kind that would never have flown when they were in the service.

"We're outside the doors," Manny says over the comms.

"Roger that," Gally says. "All right, people. You know the drill. Two cars, split yourselves up or we'll do it for you."

"I'll go with Alex," Anna says.

"Right," Gally says, and he waves Inna and Alex Sr. out to the cars with Carey. "MP, you staying or going?"

"Going," Maripier says after a moment of looking between Brandon, Gally, and Alex. "Make sure he gets into an ambulance."

Gally throws her a salute, crisper than Brandon's was.

"Let's go," Maripier says to Alex and Anna.

"No." Alex steps away from her, toward Brandon. "You're hurt." His eyes are wide, shock setting in.

Brandon doesn't look down at his shoulder, doesn't need to see it to know it probably looks bad. "I'll be fine."

"You got shot."

"I'll be fine," Brandon says firmly. "You go with Maripier. Do what she tells you."

"No," Alex says. "You-"

" _Go_ ," Brandon says. "I'll be fine. You need to get out of here."

"Go, Chucky," Gally says. "I'll make sure he's okay."

"We need to go," Maripier says. "Now." She takes Alex and Anna by an arm each and hustles them out the door.

Once they're gone, Brandon slumps a little bit, and then all the way when Gally gets a shoulder under his good arm and he can let Gally take his weight.

"Paramedics are here," Weaver says over the comms. "Ninety seconds out from you."

Gally lifts his cuff to his mouth. "Copy."

And then Brandon just has to wait for another minute and a half, shoulder on fire, repeating to himself that Alex is okay, before he's being lowered onto a stretcher and pulling off his comms to hand over to Gally.

"I'll ride with you," Gally offers.

Brandon shakes his head. "No. Go get the asshole."

Gally nods, squeezes Brandon's good shoulder before he heads back to where they came from, dashing down the hall ahead of the paramedics who are wheeling Brandon in the same direction.

Brandon answers the paramedics' questions as they hustle him into an ambulance, the doctors' questions in the ER.

"X-ray and then straight up to the OR," one of the docs eventually orders. "And get some blood in him." The doc nods at Brandon. "We're going to take good care of you, Mr. Prust."

"No doubts about that," Brandon says. "Just tell me I'll be able to play the violin after."

The doctor smiles, a small one, at the stupid joke, and then Brandon gets taken away to be X-rayed and knocked out for surgery.

*

"Davey?" Brandon asks when he wakes up for good, the pain in his shoulder a distant ache under the fog of the painkillers. "What are you doing here?"

"The Mayor and the Chief might be assholes sometimes, but Price and Subban have some pull. I'm supposed to take your statement. They wanted you to wake up to a familiar face." Davey holds up his phone. "I can wait for your statement until they get here."

Brandon finds the controls for his bed and brings the back up so he's mostly sitting instead. Davey pours him a cup of water and pushes the rolling table toward him. Brandon picks up the cup and drinks carefully, not too much at first even though his throat is desert dry.

"What can you tell me?" he asks. He wants to know everything, but someone from his team will probably be there soon.

"The Galchenyuks are fine," Davey says.

A bunch of Brandon's muscles loosen up at that.

"I'm going to need to take your statement before I tell you anything else."

Brandon nods. "Okay." He breathes, in and out, careful to see how much that's going to jostle his shoulder. "You know how I am. What's new with you?"

Davey fills him in on what PD gossip he can, until P.K. and Carey get there.

"Prusty," P.K. comes right up to him and holds out his fist for Brandon to bump. "You look like shit."

"We're glad you're okay," Carey says dryly.

"Thanks," Brandon says with a slight grin. "Me too. Did you get the bastard?"

Davey holds up a hand before P.K. or Carey can tell him anything. "Statement first."

Brandon knows how this goes, and he tells Davey everything he can remember. "It was pure dumb luck I even saw the guy." He shivers and has to close his eyes for a second while he tries not to think too hard about what could have happened. "I was scanning the room and I just happened to be looking the right way at the right time." He swears under his breath. "If I'd been looking at the other side of the room-"

"Stop," Carey says. "Don't think about that. You were looking the right way. Alex is fine."

Brandon takes in a shaky breath, ignores Davey's raised eyebrows, and keeps on with his statement.

"So did you get the guy?" Brandon asks when he's told them everything and answered all of Davey's questions.

The other three look at each other, and it's Davey who answers, brisk and professional. "We did. He was paid, all contact from one burner phone to another, money wired through Cayman and Swiss accounts. We're working on finding out who hired him, but we don't have any solid leads yet."

A sliver of panic slices through Brandon. The guy didn't complete the job, and that means whoever hired him could try again, send someone else after the Galchenyuks. After Alex.

"We've got the whole team on this," P.K. says. "Everyone's in. We're going to keep them safe." He pats Brandon's shoulder. "You just work on getting better."

*

Brandon knows the drill. P.K. and Carey brought him his iPad so he has something to keep his mind somewhat busy while he's stuck in the hospital. There's a guard, one of theirs, not from the PD, on his door at all times. They check in with him at shift change.

Alex Sr. and Inna come to visit him on the second day.

Inna comes forward and hugs him, careful but for a long few minutes. "Thank you," she whispers fiercely.

Brandon hugs her back as tightly as he can with his one good arm. "I would never let anything happen to Alex if I could help it."

"I know," she says. "Thank you." She draws away from him slowly, and pats his good shoulder. "They say you will recover fully."

"Not quite a through and through," Brandon says, "but they patched me up."

Alex Sr. shakes his hand, steady and quiet. "Thank you for what you did for our son."

Brandon nods, matches his solemnity when he says, "You're welcome." He aches to ask about Alex, to make sure he really is okay, but they lapse into polite conversation for a few minutes before Alex Sr. and Inna leave.

Anna comes to visit too, later the same day, and she hugs Brandon much like her mother did.

"Thank you so much," she says, and she's less composed than her mother; tears glisten at the corners of her eyes.

Brandon hugs her back, the same one-armed hug he managed with her mother.

Anna wipes her eyes when she draws away, and smiles shakily at Brandon. "I told Alex he has to come visit you, but he is being stubborn."

Brandon chuckles a little. "That sounds like him."

"Yes," Anna says, and she moves from the edge of Brandon's bed to the chair next to it.

"How is he?" Brandon asks. It's what he's most wanted to know since he woke up in the hospital, and he has a better chance of getting a real answer out of Anna than anyone else.

"Freaked out, I think." Anna studies Brandon for a moment. When she speaks again, it's slow and measured, like she's choosing her words carefully. "He was not happy you made him leave. He cares very much."

She doesn't specify that Alex cares for Brandon, but she doesn't need to; they both know it's true either way.

"You'll make sure he doesn't get too stuck in his own head?" Brandon asks.

Anna smiles softly at him. "You're better at it, but I will try."

*

It takes another day before Alex comes to visit. Brandon's feeling much better, awake for most of the day and anxious for the doctors to release him. He must not look that much better, because Alex comes through the door and his face all but crumples.

"Hi," Brandon says, careful.

Alex's face smoothes out, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "My sister made me come."

Brandon raises his eyebrows. "Oh, so that's the only reason you're here? So Anna will stop telling you to come?"

"Yes," Alex says.

"You don't have anything else you want to say to me?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," Brandon says, "like, 'How are you?' or, 'Thank you, Brandon, for saving my life?'"

Alex's composure turns into a scowl. "I am supposed to thank you for getting shot?"

"Not for getting shot," Brandon says, "but maybe for saving your life."

"Saving my-" Alex mutters something probably profane in Russian. "Why should I thank you? You should not have done what you did." His voice goes up as he says it, so he's almost yelling at the end.

"Of course I should have," Brandon says, his voice starting to match Alex's for volume. "It's my job."

"You got shot!"

"You didn't!" Brandon yells back.

The door to the room opens, and Maripier sticks her head in. "Everything okay in here?"

"We're fine," Brandon tells her.

Alex doesn't speak, or turn to look at Maripier. She raises her eyebrows at Brandon but closes the door again.

"You didn't," Brandon says at a lower volume. "That's what's important."

"That is not what is important," Alex snaps, not quite yelling anymore. "You shouldn't have-"

"Alex." Brandon cuts him off. "I should have. It's my job. I'm trained for it." He takes a fraction of a second to debate with himself, and then adds, "It's not the first time I've been shot. It's not even the worst time I've been shot."

That makes Alex's eyes snap to his, and they're wide, surprised, for a moment before he narrows them. "It's your job," he says flatly.

"Yes," Brandon says, and he really is sorry the conversation is going like this because he's been here before and the outcome is never happily ever after. "It's my job."

"So you would have done that for any client?"

And, well, maybe Alex has a better read on this situation than Brandon thinks he does. "I would have pushed any client out of the way," Brandon says carefully. He wouldn't have done it with such desperation for any client, might not have followed any client down and covered them, wouldn't have panicked at the thought of what might have happened to any client.

"You got shot," Alex says, and his voice trembles, another thing Brandon's never heard from him. "You got shot for me."

Brandon draws in as deep a breath as he can without jostling his shoulder. "Yes," he says. "I did."

Alex stares at him, something Brandon can't read in his eyes, and then he turns around and walks out the door.

Brandon's next breath shakes, and when Maripier comes in to see him at the end of her shift on guard duty, he clings tightly to her hand.

*

P.K. and Carey come to see him when the doctor is finally ready to sign his release forms, which is how Brandon knows they're serious about it when Carey says, "You don't have to come back to the estate. You can take medical leave."

"This?" Brandon gestures at his bandaged shoulder. "I can't be on active duty, but it's not so bad I can't sit around and watch surveillance footage."

"We're not worried about your gunshot wound," P.K. says gently. "We're worried about your broken heart."

Brandon knows they're doubly serious about it when Carey doesn't even make a face at P.K.'s wording. Brandon rubs a hand over his eyes. "I can handle it."

"Are you sure?" Carey asks. "Even if all you're doing is watching the monitors, you're going to be seeing Alex a lot."

"I'm sure," Brandon says, even though he's not. P.K. wasn't wrong about calling what he's feeling a broken heart. "It's not like he's a bad guy. He just," Brandon takes a breath. "He couldn't handle the reality of the job." Brandon smiles a little, probably not very convincingly. "They can't all be Angela."

Angela can not only handle the reality of the job, but dealt with it calmly when the day after their wedding had Carey flying off to a job with P.K. and the rest of the team instead of going on a honeymoon with her.

Carey pats Brandon's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Brandon nods, and squeezes his eyes shut when P.K. hugs him. There will be plenty of time to mourn what never happened after they keep the Galchenyuks safe long enough for someone - their team or Davey and the PD - to figure out who's been coming after them.

"So," Brandon says briskly when P.K. lets him go, "are you breaking me out of here, or what?"

"The doc should be here any minute to sign you out," Carey says. "We'll take you back to the estate with us."

Getting out of the hospital is easy; it's returning to the Galchenyuk estate that causes problems. Not security problems. Alex problems.

"What are you doing here?" Alex asks when he catches sight of Brandon. He has socks on but no shoes, which means he's going from one part of the house to another, not outside, and it's just Brandon's bad luck that he's crossing the entryway when Brandon, Carey, and P.K. come into the house.

"Getting back to work," Brandon says.

Alex's face creases into a frown. "You cannot come back to work. You got shot. You should be resting."

"I've been cleared by my doctor and my bosses," Brandon says. "I won't be going everywhere with you, but I'm back on light duty."

"No," Alex says, and he turns his frown edging into a scowl on P.K. and Carey. "He should not be here."

"He's been medically cleared," P.K. says. "We'll make sure he doesn't do anything that's going to get in the way of his recovery."

Alex scowls at all three of them. "I'm the client," he says. "Don't I get a say in who's on the team protecting me?"

"Technically," Brandon says, because he's been close enough to Alex that he can probably get away with a level of insubordination P.K. and Carey might not be able to, "your dad's the client, so you're stuck with me."

Alex turns up the wattage on his glare and stomps off. It would be cute, Alex stormy and stomping through the house in his socks like a two-year-old throwing a temper tantrum, if it weren't for the fact that Brandon doesn't want Alex to be mad at him, or for their team to lose this job.

Carey squeezes Brandon's shoulder. "Let's go get you worked into the schedule."

Brandon doesn't hear the fight Alex has with his dad, but he hears about it later from Anna, who comes to see how he's settling back in. Alex tried to insist his dad make Carey and P.K. send Brandon home, and Alex Sr. refused to budge.

"Don't worry about your job," Anna says. "There's no way Dad's going to fire your team, or make them send you away."

"Thanks." Then, because she seems to be there mostly as a friend, he asks, "Alex going to be okay with that?"

"He'll have to be." Anna gives Brandon a considering look. "He's never been in love before. He doesn't know how to deal with it yet."

Brandon rubs at his chest, over his heart. "I have been, and I think some parts just don't get easier."

*

Light duty means Brandon rotates between watching security footage, acting as another set of eyes on security plans, and making phone calls on behalf of the team. It also means regular daytime shifts only, and Brandon goes to bed early because he feels better but his body is still healing.

He takes a book with him instead of his iPad, one of the latest thrillers making the rounds. Travis likes to buy them, the whole team ends up reading them while they're on a job, and then they spend a lot of otherwise very boring waiting time picking apart everything that's wrong with them. After this job, they'll have to stop mocking the ones where the agent falls in love with the woman he's supposed to be protecting.

The book isn't that good, so when there's a knock at his door, Brandon doesn't hesitate to call out, "Come in."

He's expecting Maripier, maybe, or Gally, one of his team who knows how boring healing time can be coming to keep him company for a bit. He's not expecting Alex, barefoot in plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt.

"Hi," Brandon says. He sits up a little more, out of the nest of pillows he's been leaning on.

Alex says, "Hi," and continues to hover in the doorway.

"Come in," Brandon says. Whatever this conversation is, it's probably better not to have it half in the hallway.

Alex comes in and shuts the door.

Brandon scoots a little more toward the side of the bed farthest from the door, leaving space for Alex to sit down if he wants.

Alex perches on the very edge of the bed, like he might get up at any second.

"I was very scared," he says after a moment. "When you got shot."

Brandon puts his book down, without taking the time to try to mark his place. "I was scared too," he says.

Alex turns a little to look at him.

Brandon scoots closer to Alex. "I was scared for what might happen to me. And I was scared he would come through me to get to you."

Alex reaches out a hand, like he might touch Brandon, and then pulls it back. "Does it hurt?"

It might make Alex feel better if he says no, but Brandon would rather not lie to him. "Yes, a little. It's still healing and I'm not on the heavy duty painkillers anymore. But it'll be fine. It just has to finish healing, and I'll have some PT, and then it'll be good as new."

Alex meets his eyes for a moment, and then he blinks, a long, slow sweep of his eyelashes. He says, "I wish you didn't get hurt," and then, "I haven't been sleeping very well."

Brandon can see the tiredness around his eyes, the tightness around his mouth. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

Alex's shoulders drop like his strings have been cut. "Can I?"

"Yeah." Brandon puts his book down on the nightstand and pulls the covers back. "Get in."

Alex gets into bed, and then does reach out and touch Brandon, fingers just ghosting over his shoulder.

"It's going to be fine," Brandon says. He takes Alex's hand and brings it up to brush his lips over Alex's fingers. "I'm going to be fine."

Alex moves closer and kisses Brandon, soft and sweet, and not at all how Brandon thought their first kiss would go if they ever got one.

Brandon pushes himself up enough to lean over Alex and turn off the lamp next to the bed. In the dark, he pulls Alex closer to him. "You're not going to hurt me," he says. "Come on."

Alex stops resisting him. He turns over and scoots in close so Brandon is spooned up against his back.

*

Brandon's heart sinks when he wakes up alone in the morning. His shoulder hurts and Alex left at some point, and it's not making for a good day.

He heaves himself out of bed anyway, navigates a shower without doing anything he's not supposed to do with or to his shoulder, and takes enough painkillers to make the pain manageable.

There's a small kitchen in their wing of the house, but Brandon heads for the main kitchen; it's the right time of day that the Galchenyuks' housekeeper is probably making breakfast for everyone, and even the prospect of running into Alex isn't enough to keep Brandon from a breakfast he doesn't have to try to make himself.

The kitchen is busy, Maripier, P.K., and Gally adding to the chaos while the housekeeper makes breakfast and the Galchenyuks, all four of them dressed and ready to leave the house, have a conversation in Russian.

Alex falters for a moment when Brandon comes in, but continues on with his conversation without attracting much attention to the pause.

"How are you feeling?" Maripier asks Brandon.

"Better once the painkillers kick in," Brandon says. The look Maripier pins him with suggests his attempt at levity didn't quite work. He shrugs with his good shoulder.

The housekeeper puts a plate in front of Brandon, and he slumps onto one of the stools at the counter. Everyone else has already eaten, so no reason for him to go to the table.

"Thank you," Brandon says, and again, with more emphasis, when a cup of coffee joins the plate of pancakes, eggs, and sausage.

P.K. leaves whatever argument he was having with Gally - something about Ninja Turtles - and comes over to sit next to Brandon. "Take it easy today," he says, quiet enough that it's almost a private conversation. "We can handle it without you."

Brandon takes a deep drink of his coffee. "I'm good," he says. "Or I will be once I eat all of this." He gestures at his plate.

P.K. pats Brandon's good shoulder, not as hard as he usually would. "We'll take care of them out there."

Brandon nods at him. "I know you will."

Weaver interrupts everyone when he comes in and says, "Cars are ready." The chaos of the room turns into organized chaos as everyone gets their coats, bags, and travel mugs and heads out.

Brandon's staying aware of his surroundings, even in the safety of the kitchen with so many people around, so he can see Alex coming his way.

Alex doesn't say anything to him, but he rests his hand on Brandon's good shoulder for the briefest moment, and then trails his fingers across the top of Brandon's shoulders as he follows everyone else out of the kitchen.

Maybe it won't be such a terrible day.

*

Alex spends the night in Brandon's room every night for a week. Sometimes he comes in while Brandon's still awake, reading a book or wasting time on his iPad. They'll talk a little, they'll exchange a gentle kiss, they'll fall asleep together. Sometimes it's later, Brandon mostly asleep when Alex brushes a soft kiss over his lips. Once he doesn't even know Alex has come in until he wakes up and watches Alex sleeping next to him.

Except for the still healing gunshot wound, they're some really good nights.

The morning of the last one, although he doesn't know it's the last one at the time, Brandon wakes up to Alex watching him.

"Hi." Brandon smiles at him.

"Hi." Alex skims his fingers over Brandon's shoulder. "Does it still hurt?"

"A little," Brandon says. There are over-the-counter painkillers on the nightstand that he's been taking as soon as he gets up in the morning. He grabs at Alex's hand when he starts to pull away. "Don't stop. It feels good when you touch me."

If Alex were the type to blush, Brandon thinks he would now. There's an almost bashful cast to his expression, which becomes indistinct when he leans in and kisses Brandon, soft and closemouthed.

Brandon kisses back, eager and hungry for it. Alex's hand stays light on his shoulder as they make out for long minutes.

Alex is the one to pull away. "I have to go. I have meetings today."

Brandon flops onto his back, carefully so it doesn't jar his shoulder. "Fine," he says, "leave me here alone."

Alex chuckles, but then he leans down and kisses Brandon, serious and solemn. There aren't words that go with it, but Brandon can imagine what Alex is saying to him with that kiss.

*

It's the last of those nights because of what happens later that day, when Brandon is hanging around idly checking in on the comms between bouts of phone calls and reviewing security plans. He doesn't realize there's anything unusual going on at first. But something must catch his ear, make him tune in with all his attention.

"What's happening?" Brandon asks over the comms, because it sounds like they just let Alex go into a meeting alone with Anton Zhirov, a former Galchenyuk, Inc. VP who's on the shortlist of people most likely to be behind the threats against the family, and that goes completely against protocol.

"Brandon," P.K. says, firm and meant to be obeyed, "stay off the comms."

Brandon's stuck listening to the tense silence over the comms, the short exchanges of information from the rest of his team, and he knows something is wrong, knows that this can't be good. He curses the gunshot wound that means he can't be there. He wouldn't let Alex walk into a room with Zhirov without a full security sweep and at least one of them in the room with them.

He has to listen while his team sweeps into the room, and he can hear Davey's voice in there too, some other voices he doesn't recognize in the room but not on their comms.

"Threat neutralized," Gally says after too much chaos Brandon can't follow. "Junior's unharmed. I'll go with him to the station to give his statement."

Brandon's been clenching his hands into fists so tight that his fingernails have dug crescents into his palms. Releasing them is as far as he gets to relaxing, even though there's a new cheerfulness over the comms.

He keeps listening in while his team coordinates their efforts, Gally and Travis taking Alex to the station to give his statement to Davey, P.K. and Carey checking in with what they're hearing from their sources in the department.

"He looks good for it," Carey says two hours later. "He got sloppy and had a printout of the bank transfer to the shooter on his desk. Good work, people."

The last of the tension over the comms breaks, for everyone but Brandon. There's more than enough time for him to calm down, but he doesn't, because he can put the dots together and come up with the whole picture. They set a trap for Zhirov, and Alex kissed him so sweetly before he left in the morning.

Brandon's still blindingly angry when Gally announces over the comms that they're on their way to the estate, and he's waiting in the entryway when they get home.

"What the fuck was that?" he demands. None of them even look sorry about it.

"That was a successful operation," Carey says calmly.

"We don't use clients as bait."

Alex steps toward him, stubborn look on his face. "It was my idea."

"I don't care whose idea it was," Brandon yells. "We don't use _clients_ as _bait_!"

"I was going to do it anyway," Alex says, and he's so definite and sure about it that Brandon can't dismiss him. "They made sure it was as safe as possible."

"That wasn't safe," Brandon snaps.

"It was as safe as possible," Alex snaps back.

"You still shouldn't have done it!"

Alex's face goes stony. "I was not going to let him keep threatening me and the people I love." That's apparently the last of what he's going to say about it, because he turns around and walks away, into the house.

Brandon goes into the house too, but the other direction, toward the wing his team is in.

The rest of his team gives him a wide berth. He doesn't get assigned any tasks, and he knocks off early to stab at a stupid game on his iPad because he's not calm enough to read.

Maripier is the only one who dares to disturb him, and she comes in despite his growled, unfriendly, "What?" when she knocks on the door.

He watches her walk into his room, across the floor, and sit down on the edge of his bed.

"Did you know?"

"Yes," Maripier says. "They told me about it this morning." She scoots up to sit next to him against the headboard. "I would have gone if they'd let me, to keep him safe for you, but they wanted to stick to the usual routines as much as possible, and Gally's good at this too."

"He could've," Brandon starts, and then he has to stop and breathe through the anger and terror that threatens to choke him. "That was so dangerous."

"He came through it okay," Maripier says. She nudges Brandon's shoulder with hers. "It was a smart plan. He could be good at what we do if he wanted."

"Yeah," Brandon says with a humorless laugh, "if he didn't have a multimillion-dollar company to inherit."

"He will inherit it," Maripier says, "because we kept them all safe." She pats Brandon's thigh. "Get some sleep."

Brandon waits until she's almost to the door before he asks, "Do you know how much longer we're here?"

"Unless something comes to light that means we need to stay, we're turning it back over to Markov and Emelin on Sunday."

*

Brandon's team treads lightly around him. He's still angry with them, but he thaws a little because they're his team and he's going to be with them even after they move on from this job. He also apologizes to Carey.

"I understand the circumstances," Carey says, "but that was unprofessional. It's not how we act in front of clients, and it's not how you talk to me. Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, sir," Brandon promises. He does know better, and he doubts they'll ever be in a comparable set of circumstances anyway.

He doesn't see Alex, or any of the Galchenyuks. He stays in the wing of the house dedicated to their team, and Alex doesn't come to see him.

*

By Saturday night, they're mostly packed up and ready to turn all the security protocols over to the Galchenyuks' usual security team in the morning. They don't break out the beers yet - that'll be for tomorrow, once they're off the job and back at HQ - but they're all a little more relaxed, assured that they've successfully performed their job.

Brandon goes to bed feeling as good as he can, under the circumstances, shoulder still healing, knowing he's never going to see Alex again after tomorrow.

Alex doesn't knock. He slips in through Brandon's unlocked door and stands there for a moment.

Brandon should yell at him. He's still angry about the way Alex put himself in danger. But he's also acutely aware of the fact that this might be his last chance to see Alex. He doesn't yell. He holds out his uninjured arm.

Alex locks the door and comes to bed. "I don't want to hurt you," he says after he kisses Brandon sweet and hungry. His fingers brush over Brandon's shoulder.

"You won't," Brandon says as he pulls Alex as close as possible. "I won't let you."

*

Brandon wakes up alone in the morning, but he knows this won't be like the last time. Alex won't be greeting him with a gentle touch and a smile this morning. Last night was a goodbye, and as much as Brandon's heart aches for that, he's glad they had the night together.

After he showers and gets dressed, he gathers up the last of his personal belongings into his bag, and goes out to put it in the van.

There's breakfast in the main kitchen, his team and Markov and Emelin all eating together. Markov and Emelin are good men, good at their jobs and not too proud to bring in additional security when it became clear the Galchenyuks needed it, willing, even, to let Brandon's team handle the whole thing. Not that anyone ever thought Markov or Emelin could be behind the threats, but they all understood the need for precautions.

The Galchenyuks filter in as well, everyone looking relaxed and well-rested, and there's a festive air to the meal.

Alex smiles briefly at Brandon, but doesn't linger near him, and they don't speak.

Brandon's team leaves after breakfast. Carey and P.K. take care of turning over any last-minute bits of information to Markov and Emelin, and then they all say goodbye to the Galchenyuks in a flurry of hugs from Anna and Inna and handshakes with Alex and Alex Sr.

Brandon wishes for more than that with Alex, but they already had their goodbye last night.

*

Brandon moves back into his rooms at HQ - it's nice enough and he spends most of his time on the job, so he's never seen any reason to rent or buy his own place - and tries to get back to normal.

Getting back to normal means keeping up with the PT for his shoulder and taking light duty on jobs. He lets go of the anger at his team for letting Alex put himself in danger.

Brandon knows he should just let Alex go, but he keeps up with any news about the Galchenyuks anyway. He knows they're staying in Montreal for a little while longer, and he knows what the press knows about their business dealings. He doesn't know how Alex is doing or what's making him laugh.

They get a string of jobs with other Russian families and Russian companies on the strength of the Galchenyuks' recommendation. Brandon doesn't know if Alex has a hand in any of those recommendations, and he doesn't know which side Alex would be on in his team's wide-ranging debate about whether they should try learning Russian or whether the fact that they don't understand the Russian conversations is an asset.

*

The Yakupov family owns an oil company large enough to have its own extensive security team, but they're one of the newer Russian clients who hire Price & Subban to provide additional security knowledgeable about the area when they're in Montreal on business.

The son, who's being groomed to take over the business eventually, is friends with Alex, which Brandon finds out the first time he meets him and Nail gives him a once-over and asks about his shoulder.

"It's healing well," Brandon says after a pause.

Nail nods at him with a little bit of a smile. "Alex told me about it. He told me about you."

Brandon knew, of course, that they got the Yakupov job because of the Galchenyuks, but until that moment he didn't know just how much anyone had told the Yakupovs about them.

"Only good things, I hope," Brandon says, charm on autopilot.

"Yes," Nail says, and he gives Brandon another once-over. "I will tell him your shoulder is better."

Brandon desperately wants to ask how Alex is, but he remains professional and keeps himself from voicing the question.

He gets to see for himself a few days later, when the Galchenyuks attend a dinner the Yakupovs host. Alex looks good, a little tired maybe, but strong and handsome in a suit Brandon hasn't seen him wear before.

The Galchenyuks all greet Brandon's team as they run into them, and Brandon comes face to face with Alex for a too brief moment when Alex says hello and smiles briefly at him before moving on.

When Brandon's team was working for the Galchenyuks, Alex would circle back past him a few times a night at events like this, and they'd exchange comments about the event or the food. Brandon could always get Alex to laugh then. At this dinner, Alex stays on the other side of the room, and when Brandon sees him laughing, it's always with Nail.

*

Brandon gets drunk after they finish the Yakupov job. Really drunk, too many shots and too much he wants to not feel anymore. It doesn't help, and he texts Alex, _I miss you all the time,_ before Maripier takes his phone away and he gets too drunk to text again anyway.

In the morning, he regrets a lot of things, mostly the shots.

Alex doesn't text back.

*

Brandon gets drunk again at the end of their next job, a one-week personal protection detail. He doesn't drink quite as much, drinks more beer and less tequila. Maripier is busy grinding on someone on the dance floor, so she can't take his phone away. He knows it's a bad idea when he does it, but he takes his phone outside and dials Alex's number.

It goes to voicemail, and while that's not what Brandon was hoping for, at least he gets to hear Alex's voice on his outgoing message.

"Alex," Brandon says into the phone, "I miss you. Fuck, I miss you so much. I miss making you laugh and I miss wrestling with you and, fuck, I really miss kissing you." Brandon's silent for a moment, just breathing into the phone. "I wish things were different. I wish we could be together."

He hangs up after that, feeling even worse, sad, and he goes back inside to try to drown that feeling in having fun with his team.

*

Alex doesn't call back.

Brandon's hopes aren't very high to begin with, but after a few days, he decides it's time to move on. He can't bring himself to delete Alex's number from his phone, but he does decide he's not calling him again, and he sticks to that decision.

*

They work another job for the Yakupovs, a pretty easy week-long stint while they're in town for business. The week comes to a close with a party. It's a large affair, friends and business associates spread out across a hotel ballroom. While Price & Subban have taken point on security for the event, there are a number of other security teams there. Brandon knows at least half of them from around town, and Markov and Emelin greet everyone from Price & Subban like old friends.

Brandon mingles around the edge of the room with the rest of the security folks on rotating detail. They're distinguishable from the rest of the room by their uniform-like tuxes for men and simple dresses for women, nothing like the more stylish tuxes and evening gowns the guests are wearing.

Brandon's continual visual sweep of the room - so far nothing seems out of the ordinary, and no one's too worried about the party turning bad, but they have a job to do - means he sees the Galchenyuks, and keeps catching sight of them as they move around the room.

Alex looks so good in his tux it makes Brandon's heart ache, and he makes himself stop noticing every time he sees Alex on his sweep of the room.

It means he doesn't really register the deliberate way Alex makes his way toward him.

"Hi," Alex says when he's right in front of Brandon.

Brandon nods at him, admittedly hiding behind an air of professionalism.

"I would like to talk," Alex says. "Can we go," he waves away from the ballroom.

"I'm on duty," Brandon says.

Alex's mouth thins out.

"You should go with him," Maripier says over the comms.

Brandon ignores her.

"Please," Alex says.

"I'm on duty," Brandon says, bringing his cuff up so he can make the point to both Maripier and Alex.

"We're overstaffed," P.K. says over the comms. "If you want to go with him, go."

Brandon looks at Alex, who looks good, even with the mix of determination and annoyance on his face, and sighs. "Okay." He pulls off his comms as he follows Alex out of the ballroom. He doesn't need the rest of his team listening in.

It's a party, but it's also a business event. Alex leads Brandon into one of the small meeting rooms set aside for anyone who wants to conduct quieter, more private conversations.

"Now you want to talk?" Brandon says. He's been angry at the circumstances, but now he's angry at Alex for jerking him around. "You made it pretty clear you didn't want to talk to me before."

"I love you," Alex says, and it's enough to make Brandon stop in his tracks. "Being without you is worse than being with you and worrying about what could happen."

Brandon's heart stops for a moment. "Alex," he says, and he can hear how soft he sounds. "I'm not leaving Price & Subban, and you're going-"

Alex shakes his head. "We are spinning off the apparel division. I will be the CEO, and Anna will be the VP of Design. It will be a Canadian company, headquartered here."

Brandon's mouth goes dry. "You're staying?"

Alex nods. "Yes. And I want you to stay with me. I know you will have to go stay other places when you have jobs, and I will be very busy with the company, but when we are home, I want us to be home together."

It's direct, and Alex doesn't waver in the slightest as he says it. It reminds Brandon that Alex has been groomed to conduct business and get what he wants.

In this case, it's the same thing Brandon wants.

"Yes," Brandon says, and all his anger washes away as he grins at Alex. "I'll move in with you."

Alex smiles at him. "Yes?"

"Yes." Brandon closes the space between them and kisses Alex deeply. "I love you too," he says between kisses, and Alex's smile lights up the space between them before Brandon kisses him again and again.

They probably shouldn't have sex in one of the meeting rooms, but there's a good chance that's not going to stop them.


End file.
